


Shelter From the Storm

by blondsak



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Gen, Gun Violence, Homeless Peter Parker, Hurt Peter Parker, Hurt/Comfort, Misunderstandings, Or Is he?, Peter Parker is a Little Shit, Post-Spider-Man: Homecoming, Protective May Parker (Spider-Man), Protective Tony Stark, References to Drugs, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, Tony Stark Has A Heart
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-14
Updated: 2020-02-22
Packaged: 2021-02-19 11:29:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,087
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22710139
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blondsak/pseuds/blondsak
Summary: “Kid, if your aunt’s having trouble paying the bills, I’m more than happy to--”“No,” Peter says, looking back up at Tony with wide eyes, and somehow sounding more nervous than he did before. “You-- you really don’t need to do that, Mr. Stark. You gave me my suit, and you let me use your lab equipment all the time, and-- look, everything’sfinefor me and May. I swear.”Tony’s brow furrows. Peter is definitely hiding something, he can tell-- but exactly what it is, Tony has no clue.// When Peter gets a job only to neglect every other part of his life, Tony starts to wonder if there’s more to the story.
Relationships: Peter Parker & Tony Stark
Comments: 220
Kudos: 1038
Collections: Irondad and Spiderson Valentine's Day Fic Exchange 2020, ellie marvel fics - read





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Emily_F6](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emily_F6/gifts).



> This fic is a gift for the lovely Emily_F6!! I hope you enjoy this story!! And a big thank you to seekrest for going over and over ideas for this fic with me until I finally hit on one I loved and then looking over it on top of that! You’re a marvel my friend, and I appreciate you <3
> 
> This story will be two chapters with the second chapter being posted next Friday.

Tony looks up from the holographic interface for what has to be the twentieth time in as many minutes, sighing to himself.

“How long has it been, FRI?”

“Mr. Parker is currently forty-three minutes late, boss.”

Tony takes a deep breath, cheeks puffing out when he exhales. “Has the kid ever been late before?”

“No boss. Prior to today Mr. Parker was never even on time. He arrived at least three minutes early and once even seventeen minutes early, though with apologies.”

Tony chuckles, remembering how Peter had sat in the lobby for a good ten minutes after FRIDAY announced his arrival before Tony had inquired as to the kid’s whereabouts. He’d apparently been so concerned about “bugging” Tony before their allotted lab time that he’d thought it best to wait until four on the dot before coming up.

Tony had been quick to reassure Peter that he was in fact _not_ bothering Tony if he showed up a little early-- Tony realizing only later just how much he meant it.

Not even a full two months following the disastrous incident with the plane and Toomes, and Tony was already growing more fond of the kid than he’d told himself he was allowed to.

Pepper had called it from the moment Tony had proposed keeping the tower, only hours after proposing marriage.

_“I think that’s a lovely idea so long as you’re willing to handle the logistics, because I’m absolutely not doing it a second time. Also, how’s that hands off approach you were determined to keep with the kid going?”_

Tony had grumbled something about SI business practicalities and perhaps being a bit too hasty to leave New York City after what happened with Steve, but it didn’t matter-- Pepper could see right through him.

He’d planned to reach out to the kid later that week and discuss further safety protocols and perhaps even lab time together-- plans that had been upended when an absolutely furious May Parker had showed up not even forty-eight hours later. 

She’d driven her beat up Toyota all the way to the compound and demanded to see Tony, only to berate him for nearly an hour for keeping Peter’s Spider-Man activities from her-- not to mention taking the kid to Germany to fight half the Avengers.

Tony for his part had been contrite, acknowledging readily how poorly he’d handled things and promising to be in contact if the suit reported Peter so much as getting a bad paper cut while on patrol.

Tony had been surprised Mrs. Parker had still wanted him around Peter at all, but rather than push Tony away she had told him to “do things right this time and not drop Peter like an old, used toy” the second something shinier came along. 

Tony had planned to bring the kid further into his inner circle anyway, so it wasn’t a hard demand to agree to.

Ever since then, the kid had been coming by the tower twice a week for his “internship”-- the cover they used for anyone at SI or in the kid’s life who might grow suspicious of him being seen with Tony. But really it was just time where they could exchange suit ideas, or discuss how to strengthen Peter’s webs, or - when Tony had R&D deadlines or Peter had a project due - work separately but companionably, quiet except for a few casual words or suggestions. 

The kid had been taking the lab time together more seriously than Tony had figured he would-- though now that he knew Peter much better, Tony really shouldn’t have been surprised. The kid took _everything_ Spider-Man related very seriously.

It was just a bonus for the both of them then, that they got on as well as they did-- Tony finding himself looking forward to Tuesday and Thursday afternoons more than other days of the week.

But now Peter was nearly forty-five minutes late, and while typically Tony would be pissed off at anyone who disrespected his time like that, with the kid it was different. Where normally there’d be displeasure there was only concern, and Tony found himself more than once grabbing his phone to send a message to Peter only to set it back down again. 

Peter’s his protege at best-- it isn’t Tony’s place to hover… right?

Luckily for him, his internal struggle is put to a halt by FRIDAY.

“Boss, Mr. Parker has just entered the main lobby and is running in the direction of the elevator bank.”

Tony lets out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding, all the tension bleeding out of his neck and shoulders. 

Tony smirks to himself when not a minute later he hears the lab doors slam open, followed by the distinct sound of sneakers squeaking on epoxy flooring.

“Mr. Parker!” Tony greets, turning around to see Peters throwing down his book bag beside the lab bench Tony had cleared off for him. “How kind of you to finally join us.”

“Sorry Mr. Stark,” Peter says, voice slightly subdued. “I just-- I got held up.”

Tony raises an eyebrow, nearly throwing back something snarky but stopping himself when he takes in the kid’s disheveled appearance. Peter is wearing an old, stained red hoodie and threadbare jeans, hair whipped up into a frenzy. But it’s the look of bone-deep weariness on his face that has Tony especially taken aback.

Tony thinks then about inquiring as to what exactly Peter was “held up” by-- knows it’s likely that Mrs. Parker would never let such a vague excuse lie.

But again, Tony holds back-- deciding it’s not his place to pry. It’s not like Peter is _his_ kid, after all.

“No worries, Pete,” Tony finally says. “Just don’t make it a habit, alright?”

“Yeah, yeah, of course,” Peter says, nodding eagerly as he finally relaxes-- looking relieved that Tony wasn’t chewing him out. “So, what are we working on today?”

Tony grins, throwing up the specs he’d been combing through earlier. “What do you think of switching things up and working on the Mark L?”

“The nanotech?” In an instant the exhaustion is wiped away from Peter’s expression, replaced by pure excitement. “Oh my god. Ned’s gonna _freak.”_

* * *

_So much for not making it a habit,_ Tony thinks as he glances down at his watch with no small amount of frustration. 

One week and two lab sessions later and here the kid is, running late yet again. It’s only been thirty minutes but this time Tony doesn’t hesitate to pick up his phone and shoot over a text.

_TS: What gives, kid?_

He tries in vain to focus for another fifteen minutes before begrudgingly picking up his obstinately quiet phone and typing.

_TS:_ ~~_My time is actually sort of valuable. Just don’t ask Pepp_ ~~

_TS:_ ~~_Are you o_ ~~

_TS:_ ~~_Getting a bit worr_ ~~

_TS:_ ~~_You better not be bleeding out in an alley_ ~~

Tony sets his phone down again, sighing as he rubs a hand across his face.

“FRI, is Peter in the suit right now?”

“No, boss. Karen’s log shows that Peter has not been in the suit for eleven days, seventeen hours, and 49 minutes. Would you like me to bring up the full records?”

Tony’s brow furrows. Peter hasn’t been in the suit in a week and half? 

_But he looked so exhausted both times he showed up the week before,_ Tony thinks, remembering the dark bags under the kid’s eyes.

Tony had just assumed it was the stress of juggling both school and Spider-Man, but now he has no clue what to think. Hell, maybe the kid is just staying up late, screwing around on facebook or snapchat or whatever it is teens do late at night instead of going to bed.

But no, Tony thinks to himself. Peter’s a good kid. If he’s not getting enough sleep there’s going to be a reason.

When Peter stumbles into the lab ten minutes later, Tony only hesitates long enough to register the kid is once again wearing that same unwashed hoodie and ratty jeans get-up before getting straight to the point.

“Once I’ll let pass, but twice? And in the span of a week? What’s the deal, kid?”

Peter winces to himself. “Sorry, sorry. I didn’t mean to be late, I just got--”

“Held up?” Tony says, quirking an eyebrow.

“Y-yeah,” Peter replies, nodding. “Held up.”

“And tell me, what is oh so much more important than our designated, pre-planned lab time? Because if you don’t take this seriously then I don’t know--”

“I _do_ take it seriously,” Peter says quickly. “I swear I do, I was just out pa--”

“Oh no,” Tony says, shaking his head and crossing his arms. “Don’t even try to tell me you were patrolling, kid. I already checked the log. So don’t you dare say it, unless you want to become someone I can’t trust.”

Peter bites his lip, looking deeply ashamed even as he says nothing in response. 

Tony purses his lips. “So let’s try this again. What’s going on?”

Peter sighs, looking down at where he’s tapping a finger on his lab bench-- something Tony has noticed he only does when he’s nervous. “I-- I sort of got a… a job?”

Tony frowns, taking a deep breath. “A job. Okay. What kind of job? And why?”

“Well, it’s not like a _job_ -job. More like I just help out when they need an extra hand. But it’s not exactly scheduled, it’s more you just show up when they call you kinda thing.”

Tony nods, not missing how vague the kid is being. “And what exactly do you do at this _job?”_

Peter’s eyes dart back up to Tony, before he looks away again. “Just easy stuff, like making deliveries and collecting payments. It’s-- it’s really not a big deal. I’m just trying to _help,_ I promise.”

“Help who?” Tony asks, then just as Peter opens his mouth, adds, “You mean your aunt?”

Peter’s jaw snaps shut. He seems to mull over what to say for a few moments before looking back down at his finger again, tapping double-time. “Yeah, yeah, of course. It’s just like-- helping May out a bit, y’know?”

Tony swipes a hand over his face. _Shit._

“Kid, if your aunt’s having trouble paying the bills, I’m more than happy to--”

“No,” Peter says, looking back up at Tony with wide eyes, and somehow sounding more nervous than he did before. “You-- you really don’t need to do that, Mr. Stark. You gave me my suit, and you let me use your lab equipment all the time, and-- look, everything’s _fine_ for me and May. I swear.”

Tony’s brow furrows. Peter is definitely hiding something, Tony can tell-- but exactly what it is, he has no clue. 

Maybe a compromise, then.

“How about this,” Tony says finally. “What if I come by the apartment this weekend and all three of us can sit down and talk? If nothing else we should consider the idea of me paying you for the internship which--”

“Which is fake, Mr. Stark,” Peter interjects, gaze overcast with an emotion Tony can’t quite identify. “This whole thing’s just a cover story, not like-- it’s not _real._ Right?”

 _Feels pretty damn real to me,_ Tony thinks, swallowing down the odd swell of emotions he feels at Peter’s words. 

The kid’s right, though, isn’t he? Because it’s not real, not really. 

Tony had been the one to naively assume that the feelings of getting closer - of having something like an actual mentor/mentee relationship - had been reciprocated by Peter. But obviously, Tony had been wrong.

“Look,” Peter says, before Tony can figure out a reply. “I promise I’ll be better about being on time but for now can we just quit talking about this and-- and move on? Please?”

Tony sighs, closing his eyes for a few moments. God, this is why he’s not a parent. He’s not cut out for this teenage rebellion push-and-pull shit, clearly.

“Fine,” Tony gives in, looking back at Peter again. “But don’t forget to text me from now on, got it?”

Peter grins. “Of course.”

* * *

Sure enough, Peter texts before their next lab day, letting Tony know he can’t make it because of “work.”

Tony starts and deletes two messages before finally replying with a casual _no problem, kid,_ trying not to let the seed of disappointment in his gut grow.

He’d expected similar treatment on Thursday, but the kid shows up right on time-- though again in the damn unwashed hoodie, even if his jeans are a slightly less worn pair than before. 

The two of them get so deep into working on an upgrade for Peter’s web-shooters that neither of them notice it’s long past dinner-time until Peter’s stomach makes a loud rumbling noise. 

Tony checks his watch. “Shit, kid. It’s nearly eight. Your aunt must be wondering where you’re at.”

“Nah,” Peter says, shaking his head. “She’s working late tonight.’

Tony side-eyes him. “Is that a regular occurrence?”

Peter shrugs. “Yeah, I guess. Lately, anyway.”

Tony swallows down the urge to bring up the offer of paying Peter for his internship again, instead going over to the lab sink and washing his hands. 

Only once he’s set the towel back down does he turn to look at Peter. “What do you say I whip up some pasta for the both of us before you head out?”

“You don’t mind? I mean, I don’t want to be an inconvenience,” Peter says, Tony chuckling when the kid’s stomach gives another mighty growl, nearly drowning out his words.

“It’s no inconvenience, kid. I gotta eat too, remember?”

A half hour later finds the two of them in the kitchen, Tony setting down a large bowl of penne alla vodka in front of Peter before placing a much smaller plate in front of his own chair.

Tony is just about to raise a forkful of noodles to his mouth when he stops, the sounds from across the table distracting him.

Peter is on the other side and shoving mouthful after mouthful in like he’s a human garbage disposal, only stopping long enough to take a large gulp of his milk before digging back in. Tony knew Peter had a huge appetite, but he’s never seen the kid so ravenous.

“Uh, Pete?”

Peter glances up, mouth still full. “Y’ah?”

“Just… try to chew before you swallow, maybe?” Tony asks with a chuckle.

Peter frowns, his face turning bright red as he brings a napkin to his mouth. Tony’s amused smile falling at the sight. 

“Hey, hey. I wasn’t trying to make fun of you. I just _really_ don’t want a choking teen on my hands. The Heimlich might look like fun but it’s very painful, trust me.”

Tony shudders at the memory of Rhodey having to perform the maneuver on him in college when Tony had tried to swallow down a Bagel Bite too soon. Cleaning up the bits of sauce and cheese that had been spackled all over his desk afterward while Rhodey chastised him for being less careful than a toddler hadn’t been Tony’s most shining moment.

“Sorry, Mr. Stark,” Peter says. “I just-- I had to do a thing for work over lunch today and didn’t get to eat.”

Tony frowns, setting down his fork. “Pete. You need to eat at least _triple_ what other teens your age do, and that’s just on days you don’t patrol. You can’t-- you can’t be skipping meals, kid.”

Peter shrugs. “I had to.”

Tony can’t help the scowl that takes over his expression at Peter’s dismissive tone. The kid couldn’t seriously think that this was somehow a better scenario than Tony compensating him for his internship, could he?

“No, you don’t _have_ to do anything, kid. I already told you I’d--”

“And I told _you_ I wanted to move on,” Peter argues, setting down his own fork with a huff.

Tony sighs, rubbing at his temples as he tries to rein in his rising frustration. Getting angry at Peter won’t help anything-- hell, it’ll probably just make the kid dig his heels in more. 

“Look, Pete,” Tony finally says, voice softer. “I can overlook some things, but I can’t ignore you skipping meals. We went over all this with Cho, so I know _you_ know that you need a certain amount of calories or you might-- I don’t know, probably pass out in gym class. Or worse, while you’re out as Spider-Man.”

Peter picks up his fork again, taking a large bite and swallowing before replying. “See? I’m eating now. And I’ll make sure not to skip lunch again, okay? It wasn’t a meeting I could afford to miss but it won’t happen again, I promise.”

Tony’s jaw clenches, biting back a retort about how the kid has been making a lot of these kinds of promises lately and not always keeping them.

Things are going too far, Tony decides. It’s time for him to step in whether Peter wants him to or not. 

But Peter doesn’t have to know that, not yet.

“Alright, if you say so,” Tony says neutrally, picking up his fork again and stabbing at his noodles. He can feel Peter’s questioning gaze, but thankfully the kid doesn’t say anything further, just goes back to eating-- this time deliberately taking it slow.

Twenty minutes later Tony is waving Peter goodbye. But as soon as the elevator doors close he whips out his phone, going through his contacts until he finds _May Parker._

They haven’t spoken since the day after she found out about Peter being Spider-Man, weeks and weeks ago now. That meeting - or well, berating - had ended with an agreement on the faked internship. The last thing Tony had done was get Mrs. Parker’s number before escorting her back out to her car, vowing to himself as she drove away that he would honor his promises to both her and the kid.

He can only hope she sees that’s what he’s trying to do now. 

With a sigh, he presses the CALL button, bringing the phone up to his ear. 

The call goes straight to voicemail, but Peter had mentioned she was at work-- she probably turned it off so it wouldn’t distract her. Tony knew Pepper did that all the time when she needed to focus.

“Hey Mrs. Parker,” Tony begins at the beep. “It’s Tony Stark here. I, uh, just wanted to have a quick chat with you about Peter. I have some, well, concerns and I just wanted to check in with you about them. Anyway, give me a call back as soon as you can, yeah? Thanks and-- and have a good night.”

Tony hangs up, lips quirking as he looks down at his phone. It wasn’t his most elegant message by far, but at least he said what he needed to. He turns his phone off silent before heading back into the kitchen to put away the leftover pasta. 

He doesn’t want to miss Mrs. Parker calling him back.

* * *

Tony leaves two more voicemails over the course of the week, but Peter’s aunt never calls him back. Her phone is also off each time, and Tony can’t help but wonder how often she must be working that he never catches her. 

As for Peter, the kid shows up for their lab sessions Tuesday and Thursday, but he’s late both times. He does text Tony as promised, but his excuses continue to be vague-- Tony almost wanting to put a drone on the kid just to follow him around and see what Peter’s really getting up to.

Unfortunately that wasn’t an option ever since Pepper had demanded some temporary restrictions on which of FRIDAY’s hacking and surveillance capabilities Tony had access to after Siberia-- not wanting to give Tony the option to observe Steve from afar when he could - _should,_ in Pepper’s mind - just call the man on that old-school cell Steve had sent him.

Tony had grumbled about it but ultimately agreed that her logic was sound, even as he refused to so much as look at the dumb phone. In any case, what it meant now is Pepper would need to sign off on any of the more… _invasive_ ways Tony could get answers.

But spying on a child, and one whose privacy Tony had already grossly invaded because he wanted another player on his side in Germany? It was something he knew Pepper would never agree to. And rightfully so, Tony could grudgingly admit.

So instead, Tony settles on dropping by the apartment on Saturday afternoon, when he knows the kid is at decathlon practice.

While Happy waits in the car, Tony takes the stairs up to the sixth floor.

He can hear a female voice from behind the door, and finds himself hoping Mrs. Parker doesn’t have company-- but nevertheless glad she’s home. 

As soon as he knocks he hears footsteps coming up, plastering on what he hopes is a welcoming and not nervous smile.

The door opens.

“Hey Mrs.-- who are you?”

Instead of May Parker at the door it’s a woman with bright green eyes and a platinum blonde dye job, looking him up and down.

“Can I help you?”

Tony takes off his sunglasses, blinking twice to make sure his eyes aren’t deceiving him. They aren’t, and the action was definitely a mistake as the woman’s own eyes turn into saucers.

“Oh my god-- Melvin, get over here! Tony Stark is at our door!”

“Who?” an unfamiliar and uninterested male voice calls out from deep within the apartment.

“Come-- come on in, Mr. Stark,” the woman says, making way for Tony. “Or do you prefer Iron Man? Mr. Man?”

“No, no, that won’t be necessary,” Tony says, flustered. “This is apartment 602, correct?”

The woman nods.

“Can-- can you tell me what happened to the previous tenants? It was a middle-aged woman and her nephew, last name of Parker.”

“I’m sorry, Tony - can I call you Tony? - but I have no idea,” the woman says. “We just moved in about three weeks ago. You’re certainly welcome inside though. I’ll make you some tea!”

“Oh no, I don’t want to impose--”

“It’s no imposition!”

But Tony is already stepping back toward the stairwell. “You’ve been a great help, Mrs…?”

“Eunice Pike!”

“Mrs. Pike,” Tony repeats, opening the stairwell door and stepping through, shooting the woman one giant fake grin. “Thank you for your assistance.”

“But--”

The stairwell door slams, and Tony trudges quickly down the flights, thoughts racing. He didn’t somehow mistake the apartment, did he? 

“FRI, that _was_ the Parker residence, was it not?”

“It was, boss.”

Happy is still idling on the street when Tony walks out of the building and into the late afternoon winter sun.

“Hap, did you know the Parkers moved?” Tony says as soon as he’s settled in the back. “Peter didn’t say anything to you, did he?”

“Nope,” Happy says, sounding surprised. “I wouldn’t have brought you here if he had. Though now you mention it, I haven’t heard from the kid in over a month. Figured you were keeping tabs on him instead, what with the internship and everything.”

Tony looks out the car window and up at the apartment building. “I’ve been trying to. Didn’t know about this though.”

Happy eyes him in the rearview mirror as they pull out onto the street. “Think something’s wrong?”

Tony sighs, thinking of everything he’d gleaned from the last few weeks. Peter wearing the same few clothes… taking on a job at the expense of Spider-Man, lab time and even meals… Mrs. Parker’s phone never being turned on… and now new tenants in their apartment.

It’s all adding up to an answer that Tony hates but can’t deny.

“Yeah, I do,” Tony finally replies. “I think the Parkers must have fallen on hard times recently, and on top of that-- shit, Hap.”

Tony scrubs a hand over his face, a long sigh escaping him. “I think they’re homeless."


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Posting early because my muse apparently cannot shut up, and so this story has now expanded from two chapters to three :)

_TS:_ ~~_The jig is up Pete_ ~~

_TS:_ ~~_I need you to come by the tower ASA_ ~~

_TS:_ ~~_Hey kid, I know it’s Saturday but could you come by to_ ~~

_TS:_ _~~So funny story, I went to your apartment today and~~ _

Tony sets his phone down, resisting the urge to throw it across the room. He’s Tony Stark; he’s chatted up presidents, prime ministers, kings and queens-- hell, even terrorist kidnappers. So why is it so hard for him to talk to a fifteen year-old kid? 

_Because you actually care about him,_ a voice in Tony’s head whispers. 

_Because you’re hurt he didn’t trust you enough to tell you the truth._

“Am not,” Tony mutters under his breath, only to roll his eyes. “And now I’m arguing with voices in my head. Great.”

Tony can admit though, it does sting a bit to know _both_ of the Parkers haven’t been straight with him.

It was one thing for Peter not to take Tony’s offer of assistance. At least that Tony sort of understood because they’d talked about it, albeit _very_ indirectly. 

The kid clearly didn’t want any more help than necessary-- didn’t want anything that felt unearned.

It was the same reason Tony suspected that Peter turning down the Avengers hadn’t just been about staying a friendly neighborhood Spider-Man, but also a way to politely reject a second multi-million dollar suit when the first one suited him just fine. 

Tony had never met Ben Parker, but he had no doubt he was _exactly_ who Peter had inherited that particular brand of pride from.

Not that it was a bad thing. It was just something Tony couldn’t relate to, having never gone truly without in his entire life. 

Sure, it had mostly been his inventions and not his father’s that had turned SI into the international behemoth it was now. But, there was no denying that even _without_ Tony’s genius-- it was also a hell of a lot easier to hit a home run when you started on third base.

And as far as Tony could tell, the Parkers were barely in the dugout, nevermind close to getting a fair turn at bat.

So yes, he could get why Peter had stayed quiet, even if he didn’t like it.

But why May?

Certainly it was possible she also had that same streak of pride and would view any help from Tony as some sort of pitying handout. But Tony also knew just from the two times he’d met her how fiercely she loved Peter. Surely May would look past that hesitation for the sake of keeping her kid in a safe home?

Plus, Tony had reached out before he even suspected they were homeless-- why ignore him when he’s doing exactly what May asked of him and keeping her informed?

The whole thing just didn’t make any damn sense, and not for the first time that night Tony wondered if there was some key piece to the puzzle he was missing-- something that would explain everything that was going on.

Tony picks up his phone again, mulling over what to say to Peter that would get him to talk. After a few minutes he pecks out a message, sending it before he could change his mind.

_TS: Hey kid, got time to stop by the tower tonight? There’s something we need to chat about._

* * *

Tony pauses in his soldering, wiping his forearm across his brow before glancing again at his quiet, dark phone.

It’s been over five hours and he hasn’t heard so much as a peep from Peter.

“Damn it,” Tony mutters under his breath, wondering if he should just try calling the kid instead of waiting to hear from him. “Is Peter in the suit, FRI?”

“Negative, boss. Mr. Parker hasn’t been in the suit once in the past three weeks except for two hours and twelve minutes on Monday evening for an ultimately uneventful patrol.”

Tony sighs, setting down the soldering iron he’s holding and taking off his sleek safety gloves. It’s nearly midnight and he’s wide awake, jittery from the anticipation of Peter’s call and the three cups of coffee he’s consumed since he sent the text.

Looking around the lab, Tony is suddenly overcome with the need to get _out._ Years and years ago that same urge would have led him to a club at this time of night, but now it just sends him up to the penthouse. There he changes into one of his warmer jogging tracksuits before putting on his sneakers and heading for the private entrance at the back of the tower. 

Pepper’s the one who got him into running again, the two of them heading out for morning jogs together routinely. Now it’s become his go-to activity when he’s restless, and Tony can already feel his anxiety lessening with every footfall as he navigates the sidewalks of lower Manhattan, steadily making his way toward Central Park. Thankfully it’s been a very mild early winter, allowing for no ice accumulation-- just some melting snow from a small storm the day before.

This time of night the place is mostly abandoned, and Tony is grateful for the solitude as he makes his way past the ice rink and the zoo and toward the heart of the park.

Rounding a bend, Tony is very much in his own world when he hears the sound of raised voices off to the side and half-hidden by a dense copse of trees. 

It’s a group of what look to be four teenage boys standing in a circle around another one, the hoods of their hoodies all up in what was probably a vain effort to stay warm. Tony might have missed them entirely had the sidewalk streetlights not reflected so brightly against the fallen snow. 

He slows down until he comes to a full stop, some gut instinct telling him it was best not to make his presence known just yet. 

“Where’s the money, asshole?” one of the teenagers says to the kid standing in the middle of the group. “We gave you the blow a week ago. Time to pay up. Isn’t that right, Ben?”

 _Drugs,_ Tony thinks, already turning around to go back the way he came, not looking to surprise a bunch of pissed off dealers in a deserted park and--

“C’mon Derek, he can pay us next week. Let’s just go.”

\--Tony freezes in his tracks. Because that is not, could not, cannot _possibly_ be the voice of Peter Parker he just heard. 

But even as he denies it Tony’s feet begin to carry him off the sidewalk, sneakers crunching on the inch or so left of melting snow. He’s still obscured from the teens by a few trees but he won’t be for long.

“You know the rules, Ben. Either he pays now or he gets the shit beat out of him and pays double next time. Personally I’m hoping for the second option-- brought my brass knuckles and everything.”

Tony trudges out from behind the last tree and now there’s no mistaking who the back of that damn red hoodie belongs to. Distantly he knows there’s probably a better way to go about this but right now he’s only seeing red, literally _and_ figuratively.

“Guys, I’m serious, we gotta go, someone’s--”

“Peter Benjamin Parker, what the _fuck_ do you think you’re doing?”

Peter whips around to face him suddenly, eyes bulging out of his head as he stares at Tony in shock.

“It’s not what it looks like!” Peter blurts out at the same time another kid exclaims “What the fuck? Is that Tony Stark?” and a third asks “Who the hell is Peter Parker?”

Meanwhile the fourth one - the one who had apparently owed money - makes a run for it, the others not so much as glancing at him as he books it through the trees.

But it’s the fifth in a blue hoodie who remains eerily quiet that Tony should have been paying attention to-- the kid immediately pulling out a gun from his jeans and pointing it between Peter and Tony, the one who asked about Peter Parker following his lead.

Without a second thought Tony goes to activate the gauntlet in his watch, only for his hand to meet an empty wrist. Where the fuck--

 _Oh shit, that’s right,_ Tony realizes in horror. He’d taken off his watch to put the soldering gloves on, and must have been so distracted when he’d left he’d forgotten it in the lab. Along with his phone. 

_Shit shit shit--_

“Well, looks like someone’s been lying through their teeth, huh,” the kid in the blue hoodie - Derek, Peter had called him - says. 

Though still cursing his idiocy, Tony brings his attention back to the scene in front of him, glancing over at Peter-- Peter who is now facing the remaining three kids and slowly trying to put himself between them and Tony, hands up as if trying to calm a spooked animal.

“Just let him go, Der, he’s not--”

“Did you fuckin’ set us up, Ben-- or should I call you _Peter?”_ Derek asks. His voice is calm but there’s no mistaking the fury in his gaze, nor the way his body thrums with barely-contained rage. “One of you better tell me what the fuck is going on here, _now.”_

“I actually have no idea what’s going on here,” Tony interjects before Peter can reply, stepping forward in an effort to get their attention all on him and off the kid. “But what I do know is that you definitely don’t want to mess with me. Now how about everyone sets down their guns and we can all be on our way, alright?”

Derek shakes his head, sneering. “I don’t think so, man. See, you apparently know Benny Boy here and he knows who _we_ are. You ain’t going nowhere, either of you.”

Derek glances over at the teen that has his gun pulled and trained on Tony. “In three--”

“Think about this for a second!” Tony cries, stepping forward again and get in front of Peter even as the kid does the same to him.

“Two--”

“Jesus, just stop and--”

“One--”

 _“No!”_ Peter cries out right before Tony is pummeled in the side and thrown to the ground-- the sharp crack of two gunshots piercing the night at the same time.

The shock of the cold snow against Tony’s cheek and neck distracts him for only a moment, but the sound of a small whimper at his side has him quickly getting to his knees.

“Peter?”

The kid is right next to him in the snow, lying face-down and head turned away from Tony. 

Without hesitating Tony wraps his arms around Peter’s middle and turns him over so his upper torso rests across Tony’s legs. 

Wide, agonized eyes greet Tony only for Peter to glance down at himself, Tony doing the same and seeing, seeing--

“Oh god.”

Peter’s old hoodie has a perfect hole through it almost in the middle of the kid’s torso-- Tony knowing enough about anatomy to know that there’s a bullet lodged in either Peter’s liver or stomach, both of which are monumentally bad.

_Peter getting shot at all is bad, fuck, this isn’t supposed to happen, fuck fuck fuck--_

The worn fabric around the bullet hole is quickly becoming saturated with blood, and Tony clamps his hands down hard on the wound-- Peter crying out at the touch.

“Sorry kiddo, I’m sorry,” Tony mutters before turning to the three teens. “One of you-- fucking call 911 _now.”_

“Shit. You actually shot him, man,” the unarmed teen says, none of them moving. Tony watches as they all look at each other in panic before Derek lifts his gun up again and points it at Tony, though his hands are shaking so badly Tony thinks it’s far more likely he’d hit a tree if he pulled the trigger.

All the same Tony shakes his head furiously in response, nearly growling in anger at the teen’s audacity only to angle himself to shield Peter as much as he can-- looking back down at the kid as he lets out a pained groan. 

Peter’s legs are kicking out at the snow as if he’s trying to get away from the agony, but there’s no getting away from this, not for either of them.

“You’re gonna be okay, Pete,” Tony tries to soothe, before looking back up again to yell at the teens to get some damn _help_ already. 

But when Tony looks up though he sees the three kids are gone, their foot tracks leading out of the thick of the trees and toward the sidewalk. 

_Fuck fuck fuck--_

“Help!” Tony cries out. “I need help! Please!”

“Mist’r S-Star’,” Peter grunts out, Tony looking back down to see the kid’s face has already paled considerably in just the few minutes since he was injured. “‘M sorry. Jus’ tryin’ ta help. ‘M s’rry.”

Tony shakes his head, swallowing down a panicked sob. “It’s okay, Pete. I know you were just trying to help your aunt. Now just concentrate on staying awake and taking slow, steady breaths for me, alright?”

Peter’s eyebrows scrunch at the mention of his aunt, only for the panic to return as he starts to cough-- Tony watching in horror as specks of blood dot the kid’s lips and chin. 

“Help! _Help!”_ Tony screams again. The park had its own damn precinct-- so where the hell were the police?

“Mis’r St--”

“Shhh, don’t talk kid,” Tony says absently, throat clogged with emotion even as he cries out for assistance over and over.

“Mis’r St’rk.”

Tony finally looks back down Peter only to see him clumsily patting at his jeans pocket, Tony seeing the outline of a cell phone.

God, why hadn’t Tony thought of that? He was failing Peter left and right tonight.

“Good thinking, kid,” Tony says, lifting one hand from the bullet wound and sliding blood-stained fingers into Peter's pocket, pulling out the device.

He wipes his hand on his pants before getting the screen to wake up-- only to see the phone is passcode protected.

“Give me your code, kid,” Tony says, glancing over at Peter to see his eyes are closed. 

“Shit-- wake up Peter!” Tony frantically barks, Peter’s eyes opening again. “I need your passcode, kiddo.”

“Ben’s,” Peter starts to say before another coughing fit overtakes him, more blood seeping out from behind his lips and trailing down his cheeks. “Ben’s b’thday. Zero-one… two-four… six… n-nine.”

“Good work, kiddo. Just hang on,” Tony says, Peter’s screen coming to life. In less than thirty seconds he’s logged into his secure server, quickly shooting a message to FRIDAY to send a suit to their location and alert the tower medbay staff to the situation.

“Suit’s on its way, bud,” Tony says, stuffing the kid’s phone into his own pocket. “Won’t be long and you’ll be high on meds and driving me and your aunt up the-- Peter?”

The kid’s eyelids have drifted closed again, Tony lifting a bloodied hand to pat at Peter’s face. “Kid, wake up.”

But Peter doesn’t stir. 

“Peter Benjamin Parker,” Tony says for the second time that night, “wake up right now. That’s an order!”

Nothing. 

“Shit,” Tony exclaims, pushing down harder on the wound-- hoping the pain might wake Peter on its own. But still there’s no response, and Tony can feel hot tears turn freezing on his cheeks as he checks the kid’s pulse with shaking fingers only to find they're too numb to feel the beats.

Were it not for the small but visible puffs of air coming from the kid’s stained lips, Tony wouldn’t be able to tell he was still alive at all. 

Just then there’s the sound of familiar repulsors, Tony letting out a relieved sigh when he catches sight of his Mark 47 blasting down between the trees.

 _Time to put aside the Hulkbuster 2.0 and Rescue suits and focus entirely on the Mark L,_ Tony thinks as he watches the suit land. He’ll be damned if he’s going to be caught jogging without a full suit stuck fast to his chest ever again. 

With a silent apology Tony carefully sets Peter down on the ground before jumping into the suit and hoisting the kid into his arms.

“I got you, Peter,” Tony says to the unconscious teen as they take off into the night-- the tower easily visible, being only a mile or so away. 

Tony lets FRIDAY take the helm so he can keep an eye on Peter for the short flight. 

As they fly Tony finds himself fixating on how the kid’s hair blows in the wind, curls catching on his lashes. Peter’s features are completely slack, the blood staining his face and hoodie creating a gruesome picture. 

But it’s the way Peter’s unnaturally still in Tony’s arms - neck rolling and body limp - that has Tony barely keeping his panic in check. Because the kid is never this still, not ever, and it’s impossible, wrong, _unthinkable_ but Peter looks, he looks--

_\--dead, don’t be dead, don’t be dead, don’t be--_

Another small puff escapes from between Peter’s pale blue lips, Tony letting out his own relieved breath at the sight.

But just as Tony makes to land on the medbay level outdoor platform Peter starts to gasp, more blood trickling from his mouth.

With one last gentle squeeze of the kid’s body Tony sets him down on the awaiting gurney, the medical team wasting no time as they race the injured boy through the doors and back into the tower.

Alone in the crisp night air and with the suit standing sentry, Tony can’t help but wonder how the hell they ended up here-- with the two of them held at gunpoint by goddamn teenagers and Peter taking a bullet - a bullet meant for _Tony_ \- straight to the gut.

Shivering in the cold, Tony can’t begin to fathom what situation could have possibly led Peter to get involved in drug dealing-- can’t imagine that even helping his own aunt stay off the streets would be enough self-justification for Peter to turn to outright crime.

After all, this was still the same Peter who not even six months ago had told Tony with more conviction than any teenager had a right to possess that it was _his_ responsibility to stop the bad things from happening in his beloved city. 

Once again, Tony is left feeling like he’s missing a key piece to the puzzle. But what he does know beyond a doubt is that no matter what messed up situation Peter has gotten himself mixed up in-- Tony can’t lose this kid. Not now, not ever.

Just then an unfamiliar ringtone sounds from inside Tony’s pocket. His brow scrunches in confusion as he buries his hand in and pulls out Peter’s phone, only for his breath to hitch with an odd mix of panic and relief as he registers the name flashing across the screen.

 _May Parker_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Final chapter will be posted this weekend <3


	3. Chapter 3

Tony sits alone in the medbay waiting area. He’s staring down at his raw hands, which lay limp in his lap, palms up. He’d managed to scrub most of it off, but dried flecks of blood remained stubbornly buried under his fingernails.

_Not just anyone’s blood. Peter’s blood._

Tony runs a hand over his face impatiently, sighing. It had been way too close a call tonight-- Peter choking as his throat filled up while the medbay staff took him straight into surgery.

That had been nearly an hour ago, and Tony figures it’s a good sign a doctor hasn’t emerged yet. 

It means Peter is still alive.

Just then the main medbay doors open and May Parker enters the room. 

After answering her call to Peter, Tony had only had time to explain that the kid had been shot and was in surgery at the tower before Mrs. Parker whispered “I’m on my way” and hung up.

Now here she is, wearing a coat that’s buttoned up wrong and a fleece pajama set underneath-- the look topped off with a messy ponytail. She really must have left as soon as she got off the phone with Tony.

“Mrs. Parker,” Tony greets, standing up and ignoring the cracking of his joints at the movement.

“Stark,” she said, jogging up to him. “Where is Peter? Is he--”

“He’s in surgery,” Tony says. “Nobody’s come out yet but it’s only been about fifty minutes. With any luck we’ll get some good news soon.”

Mrs. Parker nods at the words, instantly accepting them. But Tony doesn’t miss the unshed tears in her eyes, nor the way her hands are shaking.

“Can I get you anything? Coffee, or tea?” Tony asks as he gestures to the waiting room seats. 

Mrs. Parker sits down, letting out a deep breath before looking back up at him. “No, thank you. All I need is to know what happened.”

Tony nods, practically falling into the chair beside her.

“It was-- pure chance,” Tony begins, chewing on his lip. “I was out jogging and came across Peter with a group of other teenagers-- not Midtown students, or at least not to my knowledge. Long story short, things went south really fast and two of the kids pulled out guns and-- and Peter took a bullet right into the stomach. It all happened so fast… I’m so sorry, Mrs. Parker.”

“I don’t understand,” Mrs. Parker responds after a few moments, looking lost. “He was-- just out with random teenagers? Just as himself? I thought he was patrolling.”

Tony shakes his head. “Kid has barely been out in the suit in weeks, according to the logs.”

Mrs. Parker shakes her head again, jaw clenching. “Even being busy with the new job, I _knew_ something was off.”

Tony’s brow furrows. “New job?”

Mrs. Parker glances at him curiously. “Peter didn’t tell you? I took a new job last month as a district coordinator for a domestic shelter nonprofit.”

Tony blinks. “No, he didn’t say a word.”

Mrs. Parker seems to consider this, before looking down at her lap. “I figured he would’ve at least mentioned it-- it’s the main reason we moved neighborhoods. It’s been longer hours but now with the move my commute is much better.”

“He didn’t mention you moved either,” Tony says as he closes his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose. Now that he’s finally filling in the missing puzzle pieces, everything is starting to crystallize in his brain. “I uh-- I don’t suppose your cell phone number changed when you took the nonprofit position, did it?”

Mrs. Parker nods. “Yes, I had to give up my work cell when I left the corporate job. But surely you got the text notification? I sent it out to all of my-- oh, _shit.”_

She chuckles to herself, throwing her head back and staring at the soft blue of the medbay ceiling before saying in a resigned voice, “I never took down your number, did I.”

Tony shakes his head. “I meant to text mine to you after our meeting but--”

“I meant to ask Peter for yours but--”

“I forgot,” they both say in unison, only to bark out twin mirthless laughs.

“Shit, Stark,” Mrs. Parker says, looking at him apologetically. “I’m sorry, I should have double-checked that.”

“It’s not your fault-- the fuck-up’s just as much on me as you,” Tony replies with a shrug.

Mrs. Parker fixes Tony with a curious look. “Have you been trying to reach me?”

This time it’s Tony’s turn to nod. “Yeah, speaking of new jobs-- I wanted to ask you about Peter’s gig.”

“A gig? Like a job?” Mrs. Parker asks, eyes narrowing. “Peter doesn’t have a job.”

Tony shrugs. “That’s not what he told me. He’s been late or skipping out on coming to the lab the last few weeks-- finally got him to fess up to getting a job to help you out with the bills.”

_“What?”_ Mrs. Parker exclaims incredulously. “I wouldn’t let him get a job right now even if he wanted one. He’s only fifteen!”

She brings her hands up to rub at her temples. “Damn it, I knew Peter was hiding something. He said he was just really stressed with school and Spider-Man but I knew there was something else. _Fuck._ I should have pried more until I got the truth, but I’ve just been so busy with work and setting up the new apartment…”

“Don’t beat yourself up about it,” Tony says. “Kid was lying to both of us. I could have pushed him harder on it too.”

“I still should have listened to my instincts,” Mrs. Parker replies. “What exactly does this job involve?”

Tony bites his lip. “All the kid would say is it had to do with collecting payments and making deliveries, but tonight… well, those teenagers he was with? They were fighting over getting paid for cocaine. I-- I caught Peter being involved in a damn _drug deal.”_

Tony expects Mrs. Parker to explode at the revelation, but instead she goes completely still, staying silent as she looks down at the floor.

“Nope, no way,” she says finally, looking up at Tony, expression one of calm determination. “Peter might have been lying his butt off - and believe me, once he’s healed up he’s going to get an earload from me about that - but he’s a truly _good_ kid, Stark. If he intentionally got involved with some dealing outfit, then he must have had a reason. Are you sure he wasn’t trying to, y’know, help? In his _particular_ way?”

At the word _help_ Tony is reminded of what Peter said a few weeks ago, when the kid had first confessed he’d gotten a job: _I’m just trying to help. I promise._

He’d mumbled more or less the same thing tonight: _Jus’ tryin’ ta help. ‘M s’rry._

It had been Tony who had assumed both times that Peter meant his aunt, but had he actually? What if he meant helping someone else-- helping as in taking down criminals?

“Spider-Man,” Tony says, Mrs. Parker nodding in response.

Tony leans forward, rubbing the back of his neck. “But-- the kid _knows_ to come to me if he needs help gathering intel. Hell, if he needs anything related to the superhero gig, I’ve told him time and time again to come to me before doing anything stupid. And this was _incredibly_ stupid.”

Mrs. Parker smiles sympathetically. “For a kid who loves to help everyone, Peter isn’t always very good at asking for it for himself. And sometimes it takes more than words for him to really believe it.”

Tony leans back up again, shaking his head. “But what about your job? And the move? I just-- I thought the kid was really starting to trust me. But now…”

There’s a pause in the conversation then, before Mrs. Parker takes a deep breath and begins to speak.

“All due respect, Stark, but Peter lost three parents before he was even in high school,” she says gently. “And after you ignored him for months, only to pay attention long enough to take away the suit and tell him it was all a mistake… well, I’ve read more books on raising a grieving kid than you can imagine and if I had to guess? I think Peter is scared.”

“Scared?” Tony asks. “Scared of what? Of me?”

Mrs. Parker laughs. “No, not _of_ you-- of _losing_ you, whether because you walk away again or to something worse. In his mind it’s safer not to get too close, because when you leave again - and that _is_ a when and not an if to a kid who’s lost as many parents as Peter has - being close will only make it hurt that much more. You see what I mean?”

Before Tony can respond, the door that leads to the surgical area opens-- a doctor coming through. 

“I’m happy to say Peter is going to be just fine,” he says, both Tony and Mrs. Parker letting out twin sighs of relief at his words. “We were able to remove the bullet fragments and repair the damage to his stomach, and thankfully between a transfusion and fluids his blood volume has been stabilized. We’ll be transferring him to a recovery room shortly, but if you’d like to see him for a few minutes now you’re welcome to.”

Mrs. Parker stands up, only to look down at Tony in confusion when he doesn’t move.

“You go ahead, Mrs. Parker,” Tony says. “There’s something I have to take care of but I’ll be in to sit with both of you as soon as I can-- if you’ll have me, that is.”

“Of course we’ll have you,” Mrs. Parker says as if the very question is preposterous-- Tony’s chest warming at her words. “And for god sakes, no more of this _Mrs. Parker_ bullshit. I think after tonight it’s safe to say the two of us, at least, are close enough to be on a first name basis.”

“May, then,” Tony says-- May giving him a watery smile. 

“I’ll see you soon, Tony,” May says before following the doctor further into the medbay-- Tony standing up after a few moments and going the opposite direction toward the elevators.

As soon as he enters his lab, Tony heads straight for his main workbench-- a holographic interface appearing with a wave of his hand.

“FRI, pull up all visual and audio data from the spider-suit for anything related to drug deals or or related crimes from the last two months. If Peter so much as caught a kid smoking a joint I want to know about it. Include any conversations he had with his AI that might be of possible relevance as well.”

“You got it, boss.”

As he waits for FRIDAY to compile the data, Tony mulls over the various revelations the night had granted.

Peter wasn’t starving-- he probably really had just skipped lunch. The Parkers weren’t homeless-- they just moved. May wasn’t ignoring Tony-- she just got a new number. Peter didn’t take a part-time gig to help May with the bills, he was-- well, Tony has some theories.

“Boss, I’ve finished pulling all the relevant files.”

“Throw ‘em up, FRI.”

Time to see if those theories are correct.

* * *

Tony waits quietly by Peter’s bedside, the rays of the mid-morning sun creating a soft light that permeates the room. Upon his arrival just before dawn, May had assured him Peter had woken up just long enough to be told he would be okay before passing out again-- only for her to then inform Tony he was on “second shift” and passing out on the Murphy bed in the far corner. 

How incredibly easily May could accept him into their little family of two after what he’d let happen to Peter not even half a day earlier, Tony had no idea. But he certainly wasn’t going to argue.

Tony’s eyelids are just starting to droop - the arm holding his tablet starting to fall down into his lap - when there’s a small groan from the hospital bed. In an instant Tony’s back awake, leaning forward and putting a gentle hand on Peter’s shoulder.

He smiles when Peter’s eyes open, blinking away the last tendrils of sleep before focusing on Tony.

“Mr. Stark?”

“Hey kid,” Tony replies. “How ya feeling?”

Peter seems to take stock of himself for a moment, looking confused before his eyes widen. “Oh shit. I got shot.”

“You sure did, kid,” Tony replies. “Scared the crap out of me too.”

Even with Tony’s carefully even tone Peter still manages to look ashamed, glancing at May’s prone form before his eyes flit over to Tony. “I’m really sorry, Mr. Stark. About-- well, everything.”

Tony sighs, looking out the window for a few moments and running a hand through his hair. 

“I appreciate that, Pete,” he says finally, “but I’m going to need you to be a bit more specific.”

“For lying about-- you know,” Peter says, waving a hand. “About the job. About what I was doing.”

Tony quirks an eyebrow. “And… that was what, exactly?”

Peter bites his lip, taking a deep breath only to start talking a mile a minute. “So like a month ago I found this warehouse filled to the brim with drugs and cash, right? And it only had two bad guys guarding it so I webbed them both up and called the cops. But then I saw one of the dudes doing a drug exchange at the park like three days later, so I caught him _again_ and made him tell me how he got out of jail so fast and he said his boss who’s into some _really_ bad stuff bailed him out, but that he didn’t know anything more about the guy except his nickname, Kingpin. And apparently Kingpin is trying to merge all these juvenile gangs of poor and homeless kids together in the city to start a drug empire, right? So I started looking into it more but I kinda hit a dead end, because like _nobody_ knows who this guy is, Mr. Stark-- even all the people who work for him! And that’s when I…”

Peter trails off, biting his lip again.

“That’s when you somehow - for inexplicable reasons - decided that going undercover as a homeless teenager named Ben was your next best option,” Tony fills in, Peter scowling at his words.

“No,” Peter says defiantly, only to sputter. “I mean, I asked Karen first but she said that because of some protocol you made she didn’t have access to any of FRIDAY’s databases that could get me more info on Kingpin.”

“Yeah, it’s called the Keep Out Protocol and I created it to keep you off the government’s radar, kid,” Tony says, raising an eyebrow. “Those databases Karen tried to access belong to SHIELD, and if you knew the bureaucratic BS it took for even _me_ to get clearance to sift around in them, you’d understand why I keep you far away from it. Especially with the Accords being the mess they are right now.”

“Wait,” Peter says, eyebrows scrunching, “how do you know what databases Karen tried to get into?”

Tony huffs out a chuckle. “What did you think I was doing all night? I found you in the middle of a _drug exchange,_ Pete. So while you’ve been sleeping, I’ve been checking out your logs and doing some digging of my own.”

Tony picks up his tablet again, typing in some commands before the screen up for Peter to view. “The surly asshole you see in this seven year-old mugshot? His name is Wilson Fisk, and he’s been involved in various criminal enterprises since he was at least your age. On paper it appears he went straight a few years ago and since then he’s managed to buy up a few legitimate businesses over in Hell’s Kitchen. But here’s the kicker: it’s all just a cover for his much more lucrative and still-growing drug op, along with some other nasty stuff. The guy’s a crime boss, a fairly smart one at that-- and you already know what his lackeys call him.”

Peter’s eyes widen as he stares at the photo of Fisk scowling into the camera, the top of his orange jumpsuit just barely visible. “Wait, you figured out Kingpin’s identity _already?_ I’ve been working on this every day for weeks!”

“Of course I did,” Tony says, mildly offended at how surprised Peter sounds. “And I’d have figured it out weeks ago too if you’d just come to me in the first place.”

Peter works his jaw, looking down at where his hands rest in his lap, right over the large swath of bandages across his abdomen. “I just-- I thought you’d tell me to stay out of it again, like you did with the Vulture.”

Before Tony can respond Peter adds, “But these deals are happening in _my city,_ Mr. Stark, and I-- I’m not going to be pushed out of it just because you think I’m too young or-- or not capable.”

“Look, kid,” Tony says carefully, “I can’t say I would have been all gung-ho about you going after this guy by yourself-- he’s probably as ruthless as Toomes, if not worse.”

Seeing Peter’s face fall, Tony reaches his hand out again, placing it on Peter’s shoulder and squeezing. “But this isn’t three months ago, either. When I told you to stay out of the business with Toomes-- that was before you took down an entire hijacked plane full of my tech _and_ the Vulture at the same time. Do you really think I’d have asked you to join the Avengers if I didn’t think you were capable of handling someone like Kingpin?”

Peter’s eyes bug out. “You mean that was _real?_ You weren’t-- that wasn’t just a test? Holy shit!”

“Keep your voice down, jeez,” Tony whispers, glancing over at where May is thankfully still sleeping in the corner before waving a hand. “The point is that if you had come to me first, we could have figured something out together-- something that didn’t involve you running drugs for a damn crime boss. Which I gotta say, underoos-- as far as idiotic decisions go, that one takes the cake. You nearly died.”

“It’s not like I _meant_ to get shot,” Peter mumbles.

Tony harrumphs, but there’s no heat to it. “Yeah, and we’re gonna talk about why you’re absolutely not allowed to put yourself in the path of a bullet meant for me later, but I’ll let that lecture sit for now.”

“I mean, one could argue I was just dodging another bullet _actually_ meant for me, so…”

Tony stares him down, lips thinning. “‘Dodging’ implies you try to get out of the way of _all_ the bullets, kid.”

“I wasn’t gonna let him hurt you,” Peter replies and as exhausted as he sounds from his healing factor working overtime, there’s no missing the determination in the kid’s voice. “I can’t-- I can’t lose anyone else, Mr. Stark.”

Tony’s chest warms at Peter’s words, his expression softening. _Ah, and there it is. So May was right._

“Superhero crap aside, kiddo, why didn’t you tell me about your aunt’s new job? Or that you moved?” Tony asks, only to add with a playful smirk, “I know we got off to a rocky start, but I really thought we had something special here.”

Peter laughs before shrugging half-heartedly, staring back down at his hands. “I don’t know. I guess I just-- I wasn’t sure if you meant it, you know? Because you’re-- you’re _Tony Stark._ You’re _Iron Man._ I thought you probably just felt guilty about taking away the suit, plus I know May basically forced you into doing the lab meet-ups, so--”

“Whoa, let’s make something very clear,” Tony interrupts. “Like you just said, I’m Tony Stark-- which means _nobody_ forces me into anything, unless their name is Pepper Potts. And even then, it’s more like… playful lovetaps.”

“Ew.”

“You’ll understand when you’re older,” Tony jokes, before turning serious again. “Point is, I kinda like having you around, Pete. Not because you can climb walls or launch a car like you’re flicking a speck of dirt, but because I like being around _you,_ end-stop. And that means I want to know what’s going on in your life. Not Spider-Man’s life-- your life. Peter Parker’s.”

The expression on Peter’s face at Tony’s words is unlike any the kid has given him before. There’s no blind hero-worship, no unbridled excitement, no forced apprehension-- just pure open wonder. 

It’s a look that floors Tony in a way few others have managed to do-- reminding him of just how much responsibility is now on his shoulders. 

“Really? You mean it?” Peter asks, his tone hopeful with just the slightest tinge of disbelief.

Tony smiles, fixing the kid with a long gaze. “I mean it. And on that note-- I’m not going anywhere any time soon either, okay? I can’t promise that nothing will ever happen to me - not in this line of work - but I’m not ever going to just drop you, not even if you turn to a life of petty crime-- oh wait. You already did that.”

“Har har,” Peter says, rolling his eyes. “Very funny, Mr. Stark.”

Tony chuckles, leaning back into his chair. “You’re stuck with me whether you like it or not, kid. Hope you’re good with that, because it’s not changing.”

Peter nods, only for his lips to curl up. “Even if I wasn’t, I’m pretty sure if you tried to back out now May would probably murder you.”

“All the more reason.”

“Yeah,” Peter says, his eyelids starting to droop as he rests his head back on the pillow. “She can be kinda scary when she’s really mad.”

“Don’t I know it, kid,” Tony says, watching as Peter’s eyes close all the way. “Now get some rest, okay?”

“‘Kay," Peter mumbles, Tony keeping a careful eye on the kid until his breaths slowly even out into sleep.

A soft smile still on his face, Tony finally lets himself fully relax-- feeling much better now he’s sorted things out with Peter. 

He sighs as he closes his eyes, ready to get some rest himself… that is, until May’s voice - quiet but deadly - rings in his ears. 

“You asked my _fifteen year-old child_ to join the Avengers? And behind my back?!”

Tony’s eyes slam open as he turns to look at May, who is standing by the Murphy bed and looking wide awake-- Tony realizing she had probably overheard most if not all of his and Peter’s conversation.

Tony shrinks into his chair as May walks over to the door, opening it softly and looking at Peter with a fond expression before turning back to Tony and fixing him with an enraged glare, eyes shooting daggers.

“I don’t care if it’s your tower, Tony. Right now the hallway is _my_ office and you’re stepping into it.”

With that she disappears out the door, Tony looking back at where Peter is sleeping peacefully before he stands up, resigned to his fate. “How is it you’re the one who got shot and yet it’s still my funeral, huh kid? I wonder if it’ll help or hurt my chance of survival if I tell her you’re already in the will…”

_“Now,_ Stark.”

“Coming, coming!”

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and kudos are most appreciated. Or come hang out with me on [tumblr](https://blondsak.tumblr.com)!


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